(LES8IFINS) Chapter 1 -- Moss
by DuckmanDuke
Summary: (humanAU) Meenah and Aranea have been openly red for eachother for a solid year now, although they've been living together since they graduated. Their relationship has experienced inevitable rough patches; but their past turmoil bears no comparison to the present. With Meenah's drinking problems resurfacing, they are both rapidly approaching their limits.
1. Moss

== Be Aranea

Your name is Aranea Serket. You are curled up on the sofa, knees tight to your chest, blanket draped over your bare shoulders. The clock strikes 1am. You are alone. You have been alone for hours. _What will you do_?

—

Your fingers seek blindly beneath your blanket, eventually grazing the corner of your phone. You lethargically dig the device out. It is soothingly warm inside your palm; thus you discover the extent of the chill throughout your body. As you bring the phone to eye level you simultaneously press the power button. The screen illuminates; you'd already unconsciously predicted this, however your eyes proceed to sorely dilate. 1:05am. The corner of your lip tugs to the side, committing one of your infamous half-frowns. You tuck your phone under your knees.

Your apartment is a ghoulish blue-black. Nothing stirs except the occasional shifting of your cramping legs. Your eyes begin to slowly drag over every inch of the solemn space. You pretend as if you have heightened night vision one sweep of the room, you are blind the next. For a moment your mind slips into its usual dream-like state. For a moment florescent nocturnal flowers bloom from the seams of the windows. Their yellow stamens revealed from downy pedals wave to you. For a moment, a smooth-scaled serpent glides across blue-green-spongy moss that has substituted your carpet. — Until you finally blink. And the room is vacant, and the carpet has returned, and the flowers have withered to ashen dust. The lump in your chest sinks back into its niche. You are alone. You have been alone for hours.

2:30am. You have dozed off several times throughout the last half hour, but you seem to have regained relative consciousness. Your hands fumble for your phone again; it is still warm. You go about this check up just as slowly as the last, perhaps slower. Your eyes' hoods hardly recede. The screen bursts at your finger's command and you do not blink.

Something has changed. Half your body registers, the other is massively behind. You know something is particularly abnormal, vital even, because your finger does not complete the cycle you'd been religiously repeating for hours. In this second your single finger is more aware than you, and it waits patiently for your staticy skull to absorb the weight that the small collection of white text before you holds._ One missed call, Meenah (purple heart) Peixes. _

Suddenly you are all too enlightened. You are ablaze from your toe tips to your ear lobes. The cold melts. Your finger remains one step ahead of your brain. you are already redialing. Each ring feels a thousand seconds from the next, but you sense the last toll approaching too soon. Her voice booms into your ear. You've heard her voicemail countless times; infact it usually irks you. Often you don't even bother leaving a message, just so you won't have to bear through the whole overly obnoxious bit. Tonight (morning), you latch on to every word; every snide snicker churns the warm pot that is your stomach. The following beep entices you to squeak your concerns.

You drown in the soft static that awaits, and your lips somehow manage to pry open. " Meenah… please come home. " As the words escape you, you feel your chest tighten, and tears beg to spill over your saturated eyes. She always hated when you cried. You were never sure if it annoyed her or not. Nevertheless it certainly had an effect— oh how you struggled to read her fine print. Unable to choke anything further, you are forced to end the call.

Almost on cue, an engine roars from outside. The sound is angry, and the house vibrates. White light is poured in through the windows, eventually flooding the room entire. You do not unconsciously predict this; but you react as if your muscles were loaded and awaiting the strike of the hammer. Your fingers imprint their swirls upon the chilled glass as you press into the window. An all-too familiar old beemer has been cruelly hurdled into your driveway. You lock onto the driver's door, anticipating its crack.

It does not crack. For it has already cracked. This realization justifies the empty-shell like qualities the car currently possesses. You begin checking off a mental list of similar conclusions with an imaginary sharp red slash. Allowing your thoughts to wander just briefly enough for you to disconnect the relationship between the discarded car and the discarder.

The front door swings open and wallops back against the wall. Still clutched to the gold knob is a tight fist with purple blots masking each knuckle. Your eyes follow the stretched limb to a shoulder, then to a neck, then a face. This face is barely recognizable; and you temporarily debate whether this person is whom you believe they are or not. Your hands cover your mouth as your chest contracts again, because those fuchsia eyes are singeing right through you, and you forget how to breathe.

Her arm strains as she pulls the door back towards her, you observe her wobble as she resorts to balancing on her own again. The door is slammed shut but the winter winds still seem to circulate about the room. You begin to tremble. Although you're not certain if it is due to the cold or your swelling fright, but you could care less.

The two of you hold a stare for atleast a solid minute. Meenah finally cuts the silence, "**_ Aranea, I-_** " You inhale sharply and your breath hitches in your throat, her voice is too much of a trigger and you begin to cry. She limps closer to you but you match each of her steps as you back away. "**_ Are you fuckin mental?_** ". She wreaks of alcohol. She wreaks of boiling anger and you are scared.

Meenah takes a final step forward, and as you back up again, she snaps. " _**You're such a fuckin bitch.**_ ". Your sobbing increases significantly, and you whimper weakly. She has already stormed off into the kitchen by the time you somewhat regroup, but your legs are threatening to give, you are incapable of pursuit. Through your blinding tears you manage to catch the time— 3:50am. Something thuds in the kitchen.

Your numb legs are now operating miraculously, and you feel as if you are gliding over the floor. Your feet meet the cool tile of the kitchen. The lights are off, but you think you see a darker mass collapsed on the floor. Instead of flicking the lights on you stand there attempting to adjust your vision. Wherever Meenah is she is deathly silent, and eventually your nerves get the best of you. With all your bravery condensed you decide to face fear, you turn on the lights but your eyes are closed.

Meenah gruffly moans out, _open your eyes. _You are no longer gliding. You are a stone at the bottom of a lake, you are below the other sad rocks. She is propped up against the lower cabinets but is otherwise limp. Her legs are sprawled out and for a second you can't tell if she's breathing. You sob harder. Her face is appalling, bruised and swollen. Just seeing a scratch on her breaks your heart; and you're used to tending to her little scrapes, but they were nothing in comparison. Her eyes roll open just long enough to catch your stare.

"_** I don't want y-ou here**_. " Meenah sounds serious. It's baffling to hear such fire from the one you hold closest. You want to believe it's all steam but in the back of your head she means it. She hates you. You hate you more. You have never felt more worthless. "_** Meenah.. wh..?**_ " Your voice somewhat startles you, it has never been so shaky and meek. Meenah's eyes squint open; you try your best as to straighten up. She probably sees right through your charade despite her impaired state. The harder you attempt to suck in your sorrow the more pathetic you look. It's silent again.

Meenah's glare subtly softens. You've witnessed this same transition before. It's as if she is a deer caught in head lights. She doesn't move nor blink nor stir, but somehow you pick up on her true emotions. She doesn't say it but she wants you to comprehend her state. Accept her excuse. You're unsure, and maybe a part of you wants to head her words just to enlist a little self respect in yourself for once. You stare through her, because she detects your signals just as well. And you can tell she reads you perfectly as her eyes begin to water and widen. It's your turn.

"_** You don't care about me, do you? I'm just a bitch you mooch off of and throw around for laughs?** _" Your voice startles you again. Although this time it is because you are uncharacteristically cold and firm. Adrenaline floods your veins and you are confident. _Confident_. You spin on your heel, then glance over your shoulder. "** Well I'm_ not_.** "

As you finally walk away your cheeks boil. You feel your chin quiver and become ill with overwhelming emotion; the room spins and you just might hurl. The back of your throat burns and aches, tears don't spill. You're in pure pain. Pure agony. The weight of the world has rested upon your shoulders all at once, and you are alone. You will always be alone.

Finally, you retire. The world compresses you to the carpet and you are not greeted by a smooth-scaled serpent or spongy moss. You collapsed rather hard but you are immune to external pain. You wish to sink under the floor boards and to disintegrate into the dirt below the house. You flex your fingers before you, examining the creases and lines. You imagine waking from your nightmare in a jolt, and Meenah jerks beside you as she notices your heavy breathing. You glance to her lovingly, her face is blemishless and her eyes are pleasantly sleepy. She opens her arms and invites you into the sanctity that is her chest. — You blink, and it all disappears. Your ears are ringing; you've likely been lying here for sometime now.

As the ringing subsides it is replaced with a different nag, but you can't quite place your finger on it. It's choppy and uneven, you've never heard it before. Your brow furrows, it's really getting to you now. Then it hits you. If the sound were a wind you'd be hurled back against the wall. You scramble to your feet and stagger into the kitchen, but as soon as you lay eyes on Meenah you are on your knees shuffling toward her. Her head is chin up, her chest is jerking, and tears have left their shiny trails down her cheeks.

"_** Meenah!**_ " she immediately averts her eyes and turns her head away. "_** Meenah..**_ " You approach and gently grab her by the wrist, but she continues to refuse your gaze. Until you snake your hand into hers, coaxing, and her shallow breaths begin to soothe. Your brain is screaming at you; all of the world's logic is scolding you. How foolish you must be, but you cannot bring yourself to speak any further harsh truths. You're weak, too weak to function and you admit it. " _**Aranea.** _"

You cock your head; she's trying to speak again but her jaw merely opens and closes several times. You know what you _want _to hear. It's something you've painfully longed to hear for some time now. In fact, you find yourself fabricating innocent scenarios every now and then to 'trap' her, in a sense. You know she implies it, but sometimes you really need the reassurance. " _**I'm so sorry.** _". Your heart rate leaps then sinks in succession. No, it wasn't exactly what you wanted from her, but you figure it's atleast something. You only nod and sigh in response. Actually, you think you really are genuinely disappointed and unsatisfied. " _**Sorry doesn't magically heal wounds..** _". Your voice trails off, you spoke too obviously. Her hand unmeshes from your grip.

Before you can so much as inquire she shifts upright; you can tell much of her strength was sapped in the process, but she advances further. Her cold hands run up your thighs and she pulls you in by your waist. You fit perfectly into her, you always have. As you habitually bury your face away her lips brush over your ear love, followed by soft-warm breaths. The tickle arouses a silly inevitable grin and a squeak. You both giggle over it; everything innocently defrosts. " _**You know I love you.**_ " Her voice is silk but the electric current racing up your spine protests otherwise. You don't realize how stiff you've become until Meenah begins to knead at the fabric covering your back. You pull your head up to face her. She's already locked on to you through swollen eyes, but something isn't right.

Meenah shivers; this disturbs you. She seems to glaze over and your fear returns as powerful as ever. You nervously cup her cheek. It's hot to the touch and you feel the contrasting coolness of an unknown liquid. "_**Meenah?**_". Another chill racks through her broken body. She lurches forward, her weight gently eases you back until you're at a tilt in her arms, the only thing keeping you from falling is her hold. Meenah kisses you. She kisses you like she's never grazed your lips before and you reduce to air. The alcohol is apparent but she's never tasted sweeter as the two of you rock back and forth in blissful sync. Time is lost for good. Your fluttering heart is the only tick existing. She deepens the kiss, so when she finally pulls away a string of saliva still connects your parted lips, and you don't want this single second to ever end.

You inch forward. She's waiting for you, she's burning for you, she's dying for you. Bur as soon as you get close enough she reluctantly retracts. You don't understand. As you raise a brow, a bitter tear rolls down her cheek. She's looking down upon you as if you were an ill puppy. You don't understand.

She speaks

" _**Will you help me pack in the morning?**_ "

**END OF CHAPTER #1**


	2. Seep

== Meenah, Wake Up

Little-by-little, the world materializes around you. Sunlight fills the room and the walls reveal their homely colors, blissful sounds seep in; you can't bring yourself to move yet, your brain is suffering through the aftermath of whatever happened last night. _Whatever happened last night._ You're hardly concerned, for you've endured this hangover process enough times to be familiar with the unknown. Eventually, you notice the apparent emptiness beside you; where Aranea should be. Her side of the bed is neatly made, her pillow is fluffed, there's not a wrinkle out of place. Again, you don't think much of it. This wasn't anything out of the norm. In fact, she's probably preparing your breakfast right about now. Your energy seems to replenish at the very thought.

You slug through your morning routine as per usual, finally heading for the bathroom after 10 minutes or so of laborious sifting through dirty clothing. You've barely opened your eyes since you've gotten up. A splash of frigid water oughta do the trick; and it does. You then retrieve your toothbrush- it is pink in color, and next to it in the holder is Aranea's blue one. The sight comforts you. You're feeling especially fond of her today, oddly. You force out a glop of minty-white toothpaste onto the brush; for this amount is necessary for the rabid dog look you often strive to achieve. Although it's not quite as rewarding without Aranea scraping a bit off the top with a tsk. You're really eager to see her, or maybe you're just _that_ hungry.

You wet your brush and begin thoroughly scrubbing away at your pearly whites. Naturally, your eyes flick up to the oval mirror before you- you are immediately taken aback. _Your face, _It's repulsive. You begin prodding and pulling at your plundered skin. Your toothbrush droops out of your mouth and falls into the sink. You have absolutely no idea what happened, your mind is already fabricating the worst. Your skin is suddenly alive; you're beginning to feel stinging and throbbing sensations. As your trembling hands rise to your eyes, the sickly green and purple bruises do not lie to you. You were fighting, and the pieces of this puzzle are rapidly flocking together.

You spit your toothpaste into the sink and stagger down the unusually steep staircase as quickly as you are able. Your footsteps are thunderous, you do not notice the apartment's pale silence until you are anxiously peeping into each room. Soon, only the kitchen remains unchecked; there's no sign of cooking or anything else that implies Aranea's presence. You slouch back on the counter and pinch the bridge of your nose, utterly defeated. You've done it this time; whatever you did you've done it. You are no longer at ease with the unknown. You stare at your fists once more. You imagine what you looked like when you were walloping on whoever provoked you so severely, then you imagine turning them onto yourself because Aranea could be that who. _**" Morning.. "**_

You nearly leap out of your bones at the sound of her meek voice. But to your relief, as you examine her over she appears to be relatively unharmed. Not to mention extremely alluring in her fitting cerulean night gown that you don't recall her wearing before. _**" Meenah.. "**_She grumbles as she crosses her arms and blushes intensely, bashful as ever. You know she likes it when you give her this brand of attention, why she had to be so denying of it you don't know. You're way off track now. She's definitely not her normal self. You can tell without a second glance. She's timid and her eyes are downcast, she may even cry. _**" Aranea.. I**_ _**don't.."**_You scratch the nape of your neck, you really don't have any basis to form an excuse, or even a proper apology for that matter. _**" I don't remember anyfin from last night.**_** "**

She doesn't grace you with a reply, but she leans back on the fridge facing you as if she is somewhat open for the approaching conversation. Your lips purse, _**" I did somefin bad? "**_. This time, she softly nods. All you can do is sigh. You messed up _again, _what more was there to say? _**" You really don't remember **__**anything**__**? "**_Well, maybe you could gather a couple of certain events. You remember being out at Huss's bar with a few co-workers after work. Your boss had been maliciously hounding the lot of you all week. A harmless drink didn't seem like much. You remember checking the time at some point and bailing on your friends, then you got home- there was no recollection of a fist fight or an argument with Aranea- blank.

There's no use in fibbing. _**" I was out at Huss's wit a few fronds from work, but.. the rest is blurry."**_You gnaw on your bottom lip, working up the courage to plunge deeper into the situation at hand. _**" What did I do to you- when I got home? "**_She averts her eyes and her lip pouts out; it kind of breaks your heart just seeing that sad-sad face. Especially because it's all your fault. _**" You were just.. livid. "**_. She crosses her legs and weakly glances up at you, finally making eye contact. She's teary. _**" You called me some things I'd rather not repeat. "**_With that being said, you subtly gesture to your hands; she promptly shakes her head no, pauses, then adds- _**" I don't know where you got beat up at. Or who you fought with. Or anything, really. "**_You shift your weight onto your right leg, perplexed. She hesitates nervously for a brief moment. _**" - You told me you loved me.**__ "_

You're probably blushing like a dopey school girl from ear to ear (fin to fin?), because your formally pained cheeks now feel like the blooming spring that has yet to arrive. You both attempt to choke down your smiles but eventually you're practically gleaming. Alas, you have to play it cool. _**" Oh, reely? "**_She rolls her eyes, then giggles back- _**" Yes reely, but.. you were very drunk. It was still pleasant to hear though. "**_. Judging by the spark in her eyes she's awaiting the confirmation of her desires. _Cod, why couldn't you ever say it._ You are now feeling immensely embarrassed, and even more so, vulnerable; which is an emotion you have yet to come to terms with. **_" Yeah whale, that's where intoxication gets ya. "_**You nearly slap your own forehead, that was so stupid what were you thinking? She doesn't say anything again. Her smile has faded and yours has just the same.

Eventually, she speaks. **_" You said something else, too. "_**You tilt your head curiously, but she doesn't pause for dramatic effect. **_" You asked me to help you pack in the morning. "_**That small-sharp statement more than rocks your world and sends your head into a new found swirling despair. You know what she meant, but you insist, **_" Pack? "._** Aranea nods, you're both scanning eachothers faces for something universally unknown. After a few more seconds of silence, you begin to come to a logical conclusion. Drunk-you didn't want to hurt Aranea again. Drunk-you was actually remotely humane for once, and you're seriously taking your impaired judgement into consideration. But as far as you know, left is right and right is a loopty-loop. You're spinning. So much so that you have to shield your eyes to evade further nausea.

You are swallowed by your self induced darkness and the hyper sensitivity of your face. Moving out didn't seem even remotely feasible. How could you live without Aranea? You wonder if you could so much as_ physically_ survive, she does everything for you. She _is _everything to you. You love this girl; and once again, you are ruining it all- your body seizes up as you are gently embraced around your torso. She's being careful, but even the slight pressure on your ribs makes you wince. Nevertheless, you pull her small frame in closer, and meld your bodies tightly together until you are completely snug. But she is reserved, no- hollow.

**_" I'm not cooking "_**She manages to muffle out, and you groan desperately in response. Breakfast, oh how you needed it as soon as possible. **_" Let's just go out "_**You suggest punctually, even though you will inevitably have to become publicly presentable. Ihop doesn't sound all too bad. In fact you can already taste your favorite chocolate chip pancakes on your tongue. You're caught a little off guard, in the midst of you drooling Aranea perks up, and plants a soft peck under your chin. She's to short to reach your lips. You squeeze her closer one last time, and with a sigh, you whisper **_" Then we'll talk. "_**

**END OF CHAPTER # 2**


	3. Fool's gold

== Aranea, Look

You're en route to Ihop; where supposedly circumstantial things will be discussed. Everything feels surreal. You are ultimately dazed, again. The outside world, gray copies of copies. Gray buildings, gray cars, gray people. You might as well be in some foreign country, or maybe an alternate dimension that's remarkably identical to your city, yet simultaneously completely unrecognizable. You look to Meenah.

Reality attempts to prod at you, but you are quick to extinguish it. If you allow reality to anchor you back down to Earth, coping with the present would be unbearable. Meenah is blank, staring at the road ahead almost longingly. You're just now remembering that she is probably still a little intoxicated, not that she's displaying any signs of impairment. A car crash wouldn't inconvenience you right now. It would probably prove to be a blessing. Atleast the two of you would perish together, relationship still somewhat intact. And if it were severed, would it trouble you then? This is wrong matter to think about. You shouldn't be daydreaming of demise, but there's no fighting destructive tendencies.

A few more grueling minutes pass, and you have arrived to the eatery. To your dismay, it's absolutely packed, but Meenah doesn't seem to mind. She swipes your hand and tugs you inside; where you are both hastily seated by a hyper active host. It's not a bad seat. Naturally, you sit across from eachother. The booth's lighting accentuates Meenah's injuries. Not to mention she's already received several fleeting stares. You can tell she didn't take the time to tend to herself- at all. That was your job, but you're taking a sick day. So you are behaving proactively, after all; it's finally her turn to make it up to you. To solve everything by herself. You are hopeful. Even despite your gnawing anxiety that she might not be able to fix things. You knew she'd eventually be smacked with her own recklessness , but you figured that would happen under your supervision rather than at your expense.

** " Water you havin' ? " **She asks casually, and you wonder how she's managing to be so suave. On your end of the stick, it's like you've returned to square one. Small talk and uncomfortable movements, like all of your past has been sloppily erased. She's still waiting for you to reply;but she hasn't peeped over her menu yet. You're thinking very hard about what to say. What a difficult question! You're flying over the menu: so many options, so many combinations, breakfast, lunch, drinks, sides. **" Serket. " **Your heart sinks, but you slowly detach from your panic to politely acknowledge Meenah. She raises a brow. **" _A w-affle._ " **you _inconspicuously _clear your throat, **"_ Orange juice.. milk._. " **but before you can catch yourself- **" Two drinks, ah? " **Meenah's one embarrassing step ahead of you. Her expression softens as you tense up, you're gradually losing reign of your emotions. Just as tears threaten to well up in your eyes, the waitress breaks your oncoming depression with a blinding smile and a spiel pertaining to the day's specials. You attempt to mimic her ecstasy and quickly order some pancake combo meal off the top of your head. Infact Meenah is caught off guard by your sudden haste. As you disconnect your gaze from the waitress, you notice Meenah is still staring at you.

She's not placing an order. She's just staring and the waitress is just as confused as you are; how awkward. You sternly jut your chin, gesturing for her to snap out of it and to stop being so rude. **" Ma'a- "** the waitress utters just as Meenah decides to comply, **" Coffee. " **You can't believe her brutish behavior, but you are forced to endure for the sake of the poor employee. She didn't need to witness an ill-tempered argument; but finally, she departs. You're feeling sour now. Ironically, Meenah is quick to inquire, **" What? ". **Oh, now you're itching. **"**_** What do you mean 'what', you're the one who wanted to come here- you're not even going to eat? Why're you so cruel to everyone? It's not her fault you're in a bad mood. **_**" **You remain contained but it sort of came out as a silent scream. Of course, Meenah rolls her eyes. Your heart aches in her wake- she's still annoyed with everything you do and you're a big inconvenience again. She notices your lips purse and your eyes drip away. **" Listen, cuttlefish, I reely don't care aboat anyone else right now. " **She growls, expecting you to be soothed by the looks of it. On the contrary, **" _Don't call me that. _" **You are unwavering.

She tongues the inside of her cheek, something she often does when her temper is flaring. Your anger is collecting as well. This breakfast is already spiraling out of bounds. And to think you held such high expectations for this confrontation; you held high expectations for Meenah. Yet here she was, proving you wrong. What a joke. You're hurting so badly that forbidding your tears is becoming laborious. You begin to question yourself all over again:why you have it so bad for her, why you fall for her callous deceit over and over, why you are so naive. You're staring into her, trying to combat these questions with her eyes. No matter what she says her eyes always tell the truth. Perhaps you're the one who's lying. To yourself. Maybe you've fabricated the perfect girlfriend and are setting unrealistic standards.

The waitress returns with a now nervous, forced smile. She completely avoids eye contact with Meenah as she serves you, dips her head respectfully, and vanishes back into the abyssal bustle. You sigh at your hot-smiley face pancake. He's so happy to be smothered in syrup and devoured. The tables surrounding you boast joyous laughter and pleasant conversation. Children are scrambling for crayons and scribbling away without a care. Then there's your booth, an oppressive pit. You dully begin to cut your pancake into triangles;but they are miserably ragged and asymmetrical. It would cause you to lose your appetite, if it were there in the first place. Finally, reluctantly, you address Meenah- who hasn't touched her coffee either._** " So, what're you going to say? ** _You ask as innocently as possible.

She rolls her shoulders and begins to prod at her pitiful face again, mustering up a response. **" What do you wanna hear? "** You are shot down once more, hopes crushed. You had to tell her what you wanted- no, worse than that. You had to tell her what you wanted to _hear. _As in whatever she recited would probably not be followed up on in the long run. You wince as your chin quivers and tears begin to escape, Meenah immediately looks away. You are desperately trying to smother your sniveling with a napkin, but to no avail. Everyone's looking at the two of you from the corner of their eyes, half concerned half disgusted. You've never been so humiliated, she's not even consoling you. Eventually, you receive a **" Dude- "**, which tears it. You gather your belongings with clumsy hands and pathetically stagger out of the diner, stung by each and every glance on the way. The closer you get to your car the more your crying intensifies. There's no use in concealing yourself now, anyway. You climb inside and turn the ignition, but you're finding yourself too weak to operate. Instead you resort to cupping your face and entirely breaking down in the middle of the parking lot.

Meenah appears before long, she's tapping on the glass and begging for entrance. Saying things like sorry and let's talk. She had her chance, the perfect chance. However you can't ignore her forever, and you open the door. She waits for you. With your arms crossed you get out of the driver's seat and stand before her. You're mere inches apart, you can hear her uneven breathing and see the caution in her eyes. **_" Take me home. "_**She calmly nods then slowly reaches for your waist. The touch is almost sickening, you swat her away with the utmost fury. **_" What are you even doing?!"_**You scold as you shove her chest, families are watching the whole scene go down. **_"I'M LEAVING "_**Your scream echos throughout the lot. The big finale, the show is over. So, this was your limit? You don't bother sticking around to revel in applause. You hit the sidewalk and begin walking yourself home. You'd rather run a whole marathon than bear through another ride with her. You've never wanted to be further away from her. At this rate, independence isn't as far fetched as it seemed.


End file.
